Rainy Days
by KeepMeGoing365
Summary: Sometimes rain days can be the best and worst days.
1. Cold

She had done it to herself.

Alessandra Bolotin had voluntarily signed up to direct traffic the night of the big game.

Of course, as she had signed up several weeks in advance there really was no way she could have guessed that she would be sick or that it would be raining dogs, cats, and rather large field mice.

And that is exactly in what she had been standing for the past several hours. The freezing cold rain had been pouring down on her while she stood directing traffic as she hacked and wheezed and sneezed.

Thankfully, she had been released to go home some thirty minutes ago and returned to the station to retrieve her car.

Thus she walks to her vehicle and, after unlocking it, she climbs inside, puts the keys in the ignition, and turns…

Nothing.

She tries again, slight panic setting in.

The engine won't start and no one she knows is on duty to help her.

Nearly screaming in frustration, she lets her head fall to make contact with the steering wheel, triggering a coughing fit.

After a few moments to compose herself, the young woman sighs.

She really has no other choice. Standing out at a bus stop at this late hour is not _even_ an option and neither is sitting in a cold car all night.

Barely restraining a sneeze, Aly goes into the station and dials the number, already feeling awful for calling on his day off.

He had been staring out the window for several minutes, simply watching the rain pour down on everything. Taking a sip of his coffee, he is silently thankful that tonight is not his shift. Of course, part of him feels badly for C-shift, but… not bad enough to trade places.

He chuckles quietly at the thought.

"Daddy?" he hears one of his girls call to him.

Turning to face her, he smiles. "Yes, Lori?"

"Sue and Mom and I want to know if you wanna watch a movie with us…" the teenage girl questions.

How blessed is he that both of his teenage girls _still_ enjoy sitting down for a movie with their parents?

"Of course I do," he answers. "What's the movie?"

"We were thinking _Casablanca_. That okay with you?"

"Fine with me. To the living room!" he jokes, taking off at a mock run toward where his other daughter and his wife are waiting.

"Daddy… You're _so_ weird," he hears Lori say as she follows him, but he knows that she doesn't _really_ mind.

Walking behind the sofa, he leans down and kisses Emily.

"Well, hello there, Stranger," she giggles, smiling up at her husband. "Glad you could make it."

"Hello, Gorgeous. I'm glad I could, too," he grins before straightening up and looking around at his girls. "Popcorn anyone?"

"Oo! I want popcorn!" Susan exclaims from her place on the sofa.

Yet just as he turns to enter the kitchen, the phone rings.

Pausing in the doorway between kitchen and living room, he reaches around to pick up the phone and answers.

"Hello?"

It seems an eternity passes and she is nearly resigned to calling Johnny or Roy but at last she hears the call be taken.

"Hello?"

"Ah, hey..."

"Aly?"

The man sounds confused, maybe with even the slightest bit of worry laced into his tone.

"Yeah i's me, Cap" she begins, addressing him as she always does though he is not her captain.

"Is everything alright?"

"Well… Nah really… I mean! M'fine!" she quickly adds, hearing the sharp intake of air on the other end of the line."s'jus'… M'stuck at-a station 'cause m'car won' star'…"

"You're _what_?"

"Stuck at-a station. I knows'ya day off an' all an' I hate-a call an' bother ya, but no un else's on du'y righ' now of-a officers dat I doh an—" A loud sneeze suddenly interrupts her ability to speak.

"You sound terrible. Are you sick?"

"… No… well… yeah…"

"And you've been out in _this_ weather?" he questions, voice bordering on a reprimand.

"… Yeah… was workin'… Direc'in' traf'c f'a game…"

"I thought today was your day off."

"I'was bu' I sign' up-a work ovatime an'… I… c-coul—" another violent sneeze escapes.

"Look, Aly, you don't worry about a thing. I'll be right there, alright?"

" 'kay…" she replies, feeling more than a little guilty for disturbing him.

"Alright. I'll get there as soon as I can."

" 'kay… Bye."

As he ends the call, he mutters, "I'm going to kill her."

"What is it?" Emily worriedly asks.

"Yeah, dad. Is Aly okay?" questions Sue.

Sighing, Hank nods.

"She's alright except for the fact that she's sick. She's sitting at the station and her car won't start."

"Oh, the poor dear," Emily murmurs, clearly concerned for the young woman. Her husband's furrowed brow and deep frown already answer her question but she asks anyway. "How bad did she sound, Hank?"

"Probably better than she likely looks after being sick and standing out in the rain directing traffic," he replies before sighing, his shoulders slightly slumping. "I need to go get her and take her to her apartment."

"Oh no you don't," his wife says, scowling.

Shocked at the response, he blinks. He knows it's family night, but he also knows Aly needs help and she doesn't have anyone else to look after her or help her. He thought that Em understood that, too, since they had been helping her get adjusted to LA County once they found out no one else could.

"But, Em, I—"

"Henry Stanley. You are _not_ taking that poor girl home to an empty apartment in as bad a section of town as she lives in. Not to mention she could get worse with no one there to watch her!"

Ah, yes. Now it makes sense.

Though, he can't say the thought hadn't crossed his mind, he already knows how Aly would respond.

"Em," he sighs. "You know she wouldn't agree to that. She's as bad as Johnny about this sort of thing."

"Then you can treat her like Roy treats Johnny and tell her that she has two choices," Emily begins, hands coming to rest on her hips. "She can either come here so that we can keep an eye on her, or you can drop her off at Rampart General."

Nearly laughing at the sheer genius of the wonderful woman he had married quite a few years ago, he grins.

"Emily."

"Yes?" she smirks, obviously pleased with herself.

"I'm glad you and I play for the same team. Even I would hate to oppose that lovely, evil genius mind you have," he chuckles, pulling her into a hug and kissing her.

Giggling, she playfully swats his shoulder before nodding. "You better believe it. Now go get our girl."

"Yes, ma'am," the tall man answers, throwing a salute. He then looks to his two girls and feels a little guilty.

Here they are, both teenagers, both wanting to watch a movie with their parents—they don't get to see him as often as most kids—and he's interrupting their movie night. He knows they wouldn't complain because they had never been kids to complain, but still… "Lori. Sue… I know—"

"It's cool, Daddy," Sue interrupts, knowing what is coming. "We're fine."

"Yeah," smiles Lori. "Go get Aly so she doesn't catch pneumonia. Or magically twist her ankle. Or run into any burning buildings."

With a laugh—Aly _does_ have something that everyone lovingly refers to as 'Gage Syndrome': the uncanny ability to find trouble—Captain Hank Stanley gives his wife another kiss before hugging both of his baby girls, then he picks up his raincoat and starts toward the door.

She starts at a loud knocking from somewhere to her left. Sitting up, she blinks, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes—when had she fallen asleep?—and looks out her window.

'Cap?' she thinks, seeing the older man standing outside and staring at her with concern. 'But what is… Oh!'

After she unlocks her door, the captain of Station 51's A-shift nearly throws it open and holds his umbrella in such a way as to shield her from the rain.

Even as she reaches a hand up to rub her eyes, she can see the concern on his face.

"Come on, Aly… Let's get you home…"

Without a word, she nods, grabs her keys, and gets out of the car.

"Here, hold the umbrella a minute," the man instructs as he passes it to her. He then takes something that she hadn't noticed was draped over his arm—why hadn't she noticed that? She must be sicker than she thought…—and he wraps it around her, pulling the hood over her head. "There. Em told me to bring this for you. Good thing she did. Now let's get you out of this rain."

She nods once more, gripping the coat and pulling it tight around her, as much for warmth as to keep it from falling off her shoulders.

"Th-th-thank y-you," she stutters at last as he takes the umbrella from her, shuts her car door, and ushers her to the passenger side of his green FORD pickup truck.

He smiles in reply to her thanks and opens the door, helping her inside and then jogging around to the driver's side door.

After taking care of the umbrella and climbing inside, he slams the door shut behind him.

"Well, Aly, you certainly picked some beautiful weather for this," he jokes, trying not to seem overly concerned.

He had been knocking on the window for nearly three solid minutes before she had heard him and woken up. If she hadn't woken up when she did, he had had every intention of walking into the police department and getting someone to help him force the door open.

Looking at her now, he can see a nearly feverish look in her eyes and he tries not to frown.

"Yeah, guess I di'," she replies, still a little hazy.

"Well. You have two choices, according to my wife," he begins, now more decided than even when he was at his house talking to Emily.

"Choices?" the brown-eyed woman asks, hand flying to her mouth to cover a cough.

"That's right," Hank replies, keeping his voice calm but stern. "The first is that you allow me to bring you home for Em to take care of you…" He sees the beginnings of a protest and quickly continues, "Or I can take you straight to Rampart General Hospital and let Dixie and Dr. Brackett take care of you."

"B-but, Cap, I—"

"No 'but's. Those are Em's orders and your ultimatum. Can't go home if I let you do anything else."

"W-well… I… But… Dat's… Why can' I…."

"Well? Which is it? Em or Rampart?"

He watches her closely as stubbornness and exhaustion wage their war and then her shoulders slump and she sighs, nearly coughing as she does so.

"Emily, I guess…."

Smiling at the small victory, he puts the truck in gear and pulls out of the lot.

"Alright then. We'll stop by your apartment so that you can pick up some clothes and then we'll take you to Em."

"Okay…" she sighs, knowing there would be no escape.


	2. Confusion

Slowly, the world returns to her.

First, muffled sound begins to seep into her consciousness and then, somewhere she can almost sense the presence of people. Seeing as her skin is not crawling, she thinks she can assume that these people are okay.

'_But why're they in my apartment_?'

Forcing her eyes open at this thought, she finds herself in a room she had seen before but that she knows is not her own.

"Whuuu… ?" she groans, propping herself up on her elbows and looking around at her surroundings.

She is lying on a twin bed—definitely not hers—in a room with very light almost seafoam green painted walls.

As somewhat coherent thought returns to the young woman's mind, she tries to piece together how she got here, wherever _here_ is…

She starts from what she remembers.

She had been directing traffic for the game and it was raining.

Okay, good. Then what?

She had… gotten off-duty, gone back to her station… and gotten in her car…

Then…

Then…

Then she had realized her car wouldn't start! So… She had called one of the few people in the world she trusts: Captain Hank Stanley.

She had felt guilty about calling him on his day off. In fact, she remembers that she had considered calling her partner but had remembered he left town for the weekend. Then she had considered other members of Station 51, the only other real friends she has in LA County.

Roy would be with his family. Johnny was likely on a date. Marco would likely be with his parents and little … Well, she didn't know Mike all that well. And _Kelly_, she would never ask her arch-nemesis.

So she had called Cap.

Of course, her logic confuses her a little as Cap, like Roy, has a family. But then again, she's never thought of Roy as her father-figure either.

She groans again, this time in irritation. She had interrupted the man's day off because she wanted to call her adoptive father to help her.

Stupid. So stupid! Not to mention selfish!

Shaking her head and earning herself a wave of dizziness, she continues reconstructing what had happened to eliminate all of this confusion.

He had come to pick her up and…

He had driven her to her apartment…

But then why…

Oh. That's right. She had only been there to get changed and to pick up clothes. He had told her that Em—the captain's wife and someone who, in less than a year, had become more of a mother to her than her own had ever been—had given her the choice of going to Rampart or to the Stanley home.

Then, why can't she remember getting here?

A noise at the door draws her attention.

"Oh. You're awake," says the very woman who is responsible for her being here instead of in her quiet, drafty, cold apartment.

The blonde woman walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out and placing a hand to her forehead, a frown appearing on her face.

"Aly, you're still running a bit of a fever but you should probably try to stay awake for a little while…"

"How'd… I ge' in here?" questions Aly, sounding hoarse. "Doan a'member…"

Emily gently pats her hand.

"Hank had to carry you inside. After you got your clothes and got back in the truck, you fell asleep on the way here and neither of us had the heart to wake you…"

"Oh…" she replies, blushing even beyond the fever. "Sorry…"

"For what?" the older woman asks, confused.

"F'callin' an' e'rythin'…"

"Oh, dear, don't be sorry," Emily smiles. "We don't mind one bit. You know we help you when we can, you're family! Don't you know that?"

"Well, I…" Aly fumbles, trying to find something to say.

Yes, she supposes she _does_ know she's family. She had learned that not too long ago when the captain had been injured in a fire. Johnny had informed her that Cap, at least, thinks of her as though she is his daughter, and Emily had shown her the very same thing by the way she treats the native New Yorker.

"_Exactly_," Emily beams, nodding for emphasis. "Now. Why don't you come sit with the rest of the family and eat with us? I just finished making a nice big pot of tomato soup.

Smiling, the young woman nods.

"I'd like 'at."

"Good. Then I'll leave to get everything set out. You change into some warm pajamas and then come to the kitchen. If you need any help getting in there—you _do_ still look a little shaky—just shout and Hank or I will come help, okay?"

"Aigh'."

"Well then. I'll go do that and let Lori and Sue know that you'll be eating with us. They were worried that you would sleep through dinner."

Chuckling, the motherly woman leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

With a tired but happy grin, Aly climbs out of bed, changes and opens the door, starting down the hall.

She is met by Lori and Sue halfway and the two hug her, Aly being careful that they didn't get in her face. She knows they shouldn't really be hugging her at all, but she hadn't had time to tell them that before they had hug-attacked her.

The three then enter the kitchen to find their mom and dad waiting for them. The bowls are already out on the table and full of tomato soup.

"Well, ladies," says a rather amused Hank Stanley. "Take your seats, and we'll say grace for another day survived and another wonderful meal."

The 'ladies' grin as the speaker winks at his wife, and then they giggle when she rolls her eyes and accuses him of flattery… all while smiling rather broadly herself.

Aly can only smile at the married couple. This is what she had never seen from her parents growing up because it had never existed.

Her own parents had been years apart in age. Furthermore, they had only gotten married because her mother had become pregnant, not with Aly, but with her much older sister. Aly had been an accident _years_ later when her parents had gone through a 'civil' period in their life together. Her mother had never let her forget it either.

The animosity was enough that her father—who never thought of her as a mistake, had even often told her that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him—told her mother that he wanted a divorce. Her mother, being the manipulative creature she had always been, filed before her father, putting forth such tales of abuse and rivers of tears that no self-respecting divorce court would even think of giving her father more than the most miniscule of visiting rights to his daughter.

He had fought it for a long time, trying to explain that he was not what his ex-wife said. He tried, in vain, from the time Aly was seven to gain complete custody.

In the meantime, her mother had further developed alcoholic tendencies that had long existed. While even sober the heartless woman would verbally and sometimes physical abuse Aly, when the woman was drunk… But even in that state, she was methodical. Very rarely was there ever a mark on Aly that could not be covered by clothing. The few doctor's visits that ever happened were lost in the shuffle of New York City, and in this way, for almost eight years, her mother abused her, mentally and physically.

It hadn't been until _the incident_ at almost fourteen that she had been returned to her father's care and he tried to the best of his ability to repair the damage. He was there for her unconditionally and hoped to one day see his daughter, the bright and inquisitive girl with the smiles that always brightened his world. And over the years, he saw glimpses of her, but he also saw the walls.

Then, when she was twenty-two, he had died of kidney failure, and with him so too had seemed to die any chance of her complete recovery.

But then she had moved out to LA County, California. Once there, she had met some amazing people, and several of them _had_ managed to get past her walls. She had even been practically adopted by the Stanley family.

She had learned so much from their—her—family. While she still has moments of confusion as to why they had taken her in, she never regrets that they did or that she let them do so.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, she sits between Lori and Sue at the table and takes their hands, the two of them in turn holding hands with their parents. Once this has been accomplished, the very outnumbered man of the house begins to say grace, and Aly briefly glances around the table, a faint smile on her face.

'_Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful, wonderful family_.'

"Amen," says Hank, almost as if on cue, as if he had heard her words. He then looks up and around the table as he claps his hands together. "Now. Let's eat."

_**Fin.**_


End file.
